


Monster

by Hazzalovescarrots



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: High School, M/M, Werewolf AU, Werewolf Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazzalovescarrots/pseuds/Hazzalovescarrots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a werewolf. That is basically it:)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster

Harry is panicking.

   The full moon is coming and he is completely terrified. It’s his fourth one so far and the first time hadn’t exactly been pleasant. He flashes back to his bones breaking and reshaping themselves, the tips of his fingers throbbing to make room for his claws, his curls becoming even wilder and his teeth sharpening to fangs. His eyes had shone a bright golden yellow and they had reflected the light of the moon in the sky.

   But the real kicker is the fact that the pain doesn’t scare him as much as one other, much more terrifying thing. Louis. 

   Louis has been his best friend since they were in daycare. Louis is two years older than him, a senior in high school with the maturity of a four year old. When Louis first began freshman year, he and Harry started dating and they have ever since. He is off to university in Manchester soon to major in drama and Harry is so afraid that if he tells him his biggest secret yet, he will lose him forever. And that is worse than all the pain in the world. At least to Harry.

***

The forest floor is damp and the fog is thick around him. Harry perches in a high tree, clutching onto branches. The wolf inside him has miraculously managed to put grace into his steps. Before, he was like Bambi on ice, having to be supported by Louis half of the time or he’d fall. That is one of the reasons why he’s always feared losing Louis. He is his light, his sun, his protection.

   The wolf is growing restless. Harry can feel it growl and rumble in his chest as he looks up at the outline of the moon in the morning sky. It is like a threat, glaring at him from above, hovering over his head.

   There is an hour left before school. His backpack is slung over his shoulder. His coat is open, a thin t-shirt under it. Harry doesn’t feel cold anymore. The heat of the wolf burns and brazes inside of him. He takes a step to another branch and his foot slips. His reflexes are fast enough that he grabs onto a branch as he falls and he grunts.

   Maybe not so graceful, then.

   “Damn it,” Harry mutters as he regards the cut on his hand. He can feel the sting of it but the wound quickly stiches itself together and the scar fades as fast as it had appeared. He drops to the ground and rubs the blood off on some leaf. He brushes his shoulders off and runs his hand once through his hair. He makes his way to the small path that he knows leads to Louis’ house. Harry grins when he arrives and sees the light still off in Louis’ room. He brings out the chain he has around his neck and using the key on it, he unlocks the back door.

   Jay, Louis’ mum, is sitting along with two of her daughters. The younger of them, Phoebe, is sitting, tugging mindlessly on her sister’s braid while shoving a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. The other girl, who doesn’t seem to mind getting her hair pulled at is sipping from her mug of tea and scribbling down words on a piece of paper.

   “Good morning, Tomlinson family. Or at least, half of it. Where is my designated driver?” Harry swoops down to hug the two girls from behind and kisses Jay on the cheek.

   “Still in bed,” Jay says. “You’ve always been best at waking him up in the morning.”

   Harry can’t keep the grin off of his face. He drops his backpack by the door and, not caring that he’s still wearing his shoes and coat, bounds up the stairs and knocks on Louis’ door. A muffled groan seems to come from inside the room and when Harry enters, he rolls his eyes when Louis’ tired voice calls out.

   “Lottie, I said I’ll get up when I get up,” The boy’s face is hidden in his pillow and the sheets are wound around his waist and tangled up in his legs. His arms are flung out and his words are laced with sleep.

   “Do I look like Lottie to you?” Harry retorts. Louis’ bare back visibly tenses at the sound of Harry’s deep baritone compared to Lottie’s much higher voice. He turns his head slightly to the right so he can look Harry up and down. He is squinting at him, lips pursed and eyebrow cocked.

   “Maybe if you dyed your hair blonde,” Louis comments and Harry shakes his head, shoving at his shoulder.

   “Move over,” He says and plops down next to him, folding his coat around him and shifting so he’s comfortable. Louis just huffs and throws an arm around Harry’s middle, nuzzling his side. Harry responds by threading his fingers through Louis’ feathery hair and running his open palms over his bare back. His tanned skin is a gorgeous contrast against his cream white sheets and Harry smiles as he pulls them tighter around him. “We have to leave in about forty minutes so if you don’t want Ms. Karkarin to yell at you again, you might want to get up.”

   “You know, she’s single for a reason,” Louis mutters. “She’s a meanie.”

   Harry laughs and pokes the back of his neck. Louis groans in protest and waves him off. “Come on, boo. Get up.” Louis play-growls and pinches Harry’s thigh in retaliation.

   “I’ll kill whichever of my sisters who told you that stupid nickname,” he mumbles. Harry coos and slips further down under the sheets. He wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, tugging him closer.

   “Aw, I think it’s cute…boo-bear.”

   “Oh, shove off,” Louis whips the sheets off and, sitting up, rubs his face roughly with his hands as if to chase the last remnants of sleep away. In his pajama pants, he trudges over to his drawers and pull out a pair of white jeans and a red knitted sweater, one that happens to actually be Harry’s. Circling his way back to the bed, he sits down and tugs the jeans on and yanks the sweater over his head.

   Harry closes his eyes for a minute as Louis scampers around, probably fretting about his hair. Every trace of the worry that had overcome him before he stepped foot into Louis’ room is all coming back and filling his mind. A few beads of sweat rolls down his forehead and a low growl erupts from his throat. He prays Louis didn’t hear him. He fears telling him and can feel his palms and cheeks start to heat up in panic. He covers his face with his hands and sighs heavily. Harry has never really been one for timing and can’t make up his mind if he should tell him now or later. He doesn’t really get time to decide as Louis whips him in the face with a pillow.

   “Get up,” he says simply and spins around to make his way out the door. He doesn’t get out before Harry throws the pillow back and it bounces off of Louis’ back. Louis stops and Harry can practically hear his teeth clench. He swiftly turns back to smirk devilishly at Harry, who gulps in response.

   Louis grins. “If you don’t help me with breakfast, no morning kiss for you.”

   He then laughs at Harry who bounds out of the bed quickly.

***

“It’s the full moon tonight,”

   Harry freezes and jerks at the sound of his best mate’s voice. Niall’s blonde hair is tousled from the rain and hangs a little over his forehead as he kicks a football around. His knee caps are covered in black Velcro to help support them and his gym outfit consists of shorts and a football jersey. The backs of his legs are dirty with mud and stained with green from when he’d fallen to the ground because of a football to the head.

   “Yeah,” is all Harry can get out as he watches Niall rub his cheek and smear dirt down half of it.  

   It is weird for Harry to see Niall clumsier than he is himself. Before, it used to be Harry who missed the goal because he’d missed the ball completely, who slid in the damp grass and grazed his legs in multiple places, who fell face down because he stepped on his own foot. Now, it is all different. He can land the ball in the net with next to perfect precision. He can aim and kick with a grace that used to be none-existent. He can easily steal the ball from his opponent without looking.

   The only problem is, when he does all of these things, the Coach notices him. Harry sends him awkward glances and scratches his head.

   “So, how’s Tommo?” Niall asks and Harry can’t help but perk up immediately. Niall rolls his eyes at the obvious blush that is quickly spreading across his cheekbones.

   “He’s fine,” Harry mumbles and kicks at the grass with the toe of his shoe.

   “Still an angel in your eyes, then?”

   “Yep.”

   Niall scoffs. “You two are sweet. Like, the sickly kind. It’s getting on my nerves. Liam’s too, I bet.” He punches Payne on the arm as he rushes by, a football in front of him, aimed for the goal. Liam flips his off in response and Niall laughs. “Hijo de perro.”

   A shocked expression graces Liam’s face. He points to Niall but looks at Harry. “What did he say?”

   Harry laughed and shook his head, humored. “I’m pretty sure he called you a son of a bitch. In Spanish.” Liam playfully growls and throws an arm around Niall’s neck, yanking him into a headlock. He makes disapproving noises as Niall swats at his hold on him.      

   “Quite a dirty mouth you’ve got there, ey?” Liam says. “Swearin’ in another language. Shame on you. What would your mother say?” 

   “Knowin’ her, she’d most likely swear back at me,” Niall commented and Liam huffed, hitting him over the back of the head before releasing him. Harry grins at them both and opens his mouth to say something, but a cold shiver runs up his spine. His gaze is immediately drawn to the almost invisible moon. The full outline is there but the bright blue sky makes it harder to see. But for Harry, it is clear as day.

   The three boys hear a whistle across the field. Louis is there.

   He sits down in the bleachers with his best friend Zayn, making noises and cat-calling. Louis is holding a thermos, which Harry knows contains his favorite tea from the café just down the street. He leans back on his elbows and flicks his fringe to the side, with his best sassy expression. Harry smiles fondly and a bit creepily, if he’s to admit the truth. He, along with Niall and Liam, jogs up to the bleachers and collapses beside his boyfriend. He reaches for the thermos and Louis scoffs but hands it over.

   The warmth of the tea slides down his throat and he hums contentedly. He smiles at Louis and the other boy grins back before it falters a little and turns into a quizzical face.

   “What?”

   Louis blinks rapidly and reaches up to Harry’s face to trace along his cheekbones and jaw. “Your eyes-” Harry pulls away quickly and closes them as tight as he can. He can feel the weight of Louis’ hand on his arm and he digs out his phone to look at his reflection. His eyes are glowing golden, but when he blinks, they go back to his normal emerald green. This is bad.

   Harry’s pulse is beating faster and the heat contained underneath his skin is now seeping through and making beads of sweat run over his forehead and back. He swallows hard and scrambles away to the locker rooms before the boys can see his nails sharpen and elongate into claws.

   _Shitshitshitshitshit_ , Harry thinks. _This is not good. Not good._     

   He drags himself over to the mirror and sees his eyes glowing once again. He groans because of the pain searing through his limbs. He clumsily grabs all of his things and storms out of the locker room and out of the school. He goes to the only place he can get away from all of this; in the woods behind Louis’ house.

   During his first transformation, the pain had been so much worse the first time and it had all happened right there. The only thing that had grounded him and kept him from tearing himself apart had been seeing Louis sitting on his window sill, doing homework. Harry had watched as he’d adjust his caramel brown fringe ever so often and as he bites on the end of his pen when he feels frustrated about a question.

   Harry has spent the last four of his transformations just listening to Louis’ heartbeat. It is steady and he often feels how it beats in time with his own. This is one of the reasons why Harry is so afraid of losing him. If he leaves him, what will keep him steady? What will keep both of his feet planted firmly to the ground?

   He is deep in the woods behind Louis’ house, almost close to his own. The forest floor is cold as Harry sits down behind a large rock. It is hard against his back as he leans on it, breathing hard. He runs the back of his hand over his forehead and sinks his claws into the moss as pain takes over his ribs. He tears at his hair and at the dirt below the moss, making his arms slick with soil. He sobs into the ground and is thankful that no one can hear him out here.

   After a few hours of pathetically pawing at the ground and whimpering in pain, Harry lies, twitching on the ground. It is way past midnight now and Harry can see the sun on the horizon. His torso is bare and his skin is beaded with sweat. Dirt has stuck to his nails and under them. His hair is a wild mess of curls atop his head and his hands are shaking from exhaustion. He weakly lifts his head from the ground and takes a hold of the rock for balance when he gets to his feet. He freezes though, when he sees the deep gauges in the stone. Claw marks. Harry traces his fingers over them, wide-eyed.

   He searches for Louis and his calming heartbeat, but panics when he can’t seem to find him. He looks everywhere in the house; in every possible corner his advanced hearing can reach. He confusedly searches through every inch of the house. What he is too distracted to notice, is that he is looking too far away. Because Louis is right behind him.

   “Harry?” His tentative voice breaks Harry’s trance. The boy freezes once again and turns to the direction where the voice came from. Louis is there, breath making small puffs of white cloud in front of him. His coat is drawn tight around his waist and he holds a flashlight in one hand, the light pointed at Harry. “Harry! Are you okay?”

   “Louis?”

   The boy rushes forward, but stops in his tracks when he takes in the mud covering his chest and the cuts along his eyebrows and cheekbones and the mess of his hair. He also sees the slight golden colour of his eyes as the flashlight reflects in them. He swallows hard and Harry panics.

    _Is this where he runs away, screaming and flailing?_ Harry thinks.

   “Harry, we’ve been worried sick. You’ve been gone for 16 hours. Your mum has called the police. They have a search party out looking for you. Basically the whole town is out here. I have to call Anne.”

   Louis doesn’t even get the chance to reach into his pocket before Harry is by his side, covering his dainty wrist. Louis huffs and jumps back. A pained expression crosses Harry’s face. Louis sputters.

   “Y-you…how did you move so fast?”

   “Please don’t call,” Harry pleads. He runs his thumbs over the soft skin of Louis’ inner wrist and the boy softens. He draws Harry in for a hug and tucks his face into the crook of his neck, not caring about how filthy he is.

   “You can’t disappear like that. I thought-” Louis cuts himself off. “What happened?”

   “You won’t believe me,” Harry says and Louis pulls back a few inches, scoffing. He reaches up to runs his knuckles just under Harry’s eyes; the softest of touches.

   “I think I have a clue,” Louis murmurs. “Your eyes are yellow.”

   “Hey,” Harry protests weakly, still surprised how well Louis is taking this. “I prefer a smoldering gold.”

   Louis grins, but it falls as he takes in the cuts on his cheeks. “So, what? You’re a vampire, with eyes like Edward Cullen?” Harry makes a disgusted face and sticks his tongue out.

   “Absolutely not,” he exclaims. “I take that as an insult.”

   “So, you’re one of them doggies?” Louis deadpans and Harry laughs sharply. He meets the shorter boy’s cerulean blue eyes with his own, which still glow just a little bit. He ducks down to press a soft kiss against Louis’ lips which the boy responds to by sighing lightly into it. He winds his arms around his waist while Louis clenches his fists into the baby curls at the top curve of his neck. After they break away, Louis frowns.

   “How the hell are you going to explain this to your mum?”

***

“Hey, Curly, pick up the speed.”

   Harry rolls his eyes at his boyfriend. It has been just about two weeks since Louis found out and he has been surprisingly calm about it. Of course, now that he knows about it, he forces Harry to give him piggyback rides all over the house just because he can and Harry is completely smitten with him.

   “Come on, pup, you don’t have inhuman speed and strength for nothing.”

   Not to mention all the new nicknames Harry has to put up with. Pup, Lassie, Fetch and Louis’ personal favourite, Hotdog. Louis has always been a person who loves comics and superheroes and all things supernatural and, apparently, to have a boyfriend who is a bloody werewolf just tops the list.

   Louis isn’t the only one who knows either. Harry sort of gave them a hint when he double-flipped over a defender when playing football during gym class. Since Liam, Niall and Zayn were there, along with Louis of course, Harry told them. To which, Niall’s only real response had been, while winking at Louis: “It’s not even a joke anymore, then. We can literally call you a whipped bitch.”

**Author's Note:**

> I say this again and again but I want to thank all of you who read. Tumblr: support-the-ships  
> Big love to all of you:)


End file.
